


Making Excuses

by Savageseraph



Category: Eastern Promises (2007)
Genre: Drinking, Drunkenness, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Roughness, Yuletide 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:43:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageseraph/pseuds/Savageseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirill drank in order to have an excuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Excuses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Galadriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/gifts).



> Written as a stocking stuffer for the Yuletide Holiday Fic Exchange for [](http://caras-galadhon.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://caras-galadhon.livejournal.com/)**caras_galadhon**.

Kirill drank in order to have an excuse. If he needed to press tightly against Nikolai and curl an arm around his waist for balance, it was so that he didn't stumble drunk into a wall or over a curb. If his hand slipped from Nikolai's hip to his ass and lingered there before moving back, it was because the vodka made his limbs heavy and clumsy. If his lips brushed Nikolai's ear when he spoke to him, it was because he was nodding slightly and improperly judged the distance between them.

_You're drunk, Kirill._ He'd heard the words from his father so often that he would always remember the razor edge of contempt they held. Two simple words, but his father made them mean so much more: _You're weak. You're a disappointment. You're a failure._ Part of him was waiting for the day Nikolai's voice turned from his normal lazy purr to something that would cut when he spoke. _You're a fucking queer, Kirill._

After the police locked his father up for knocking up that little whore, Kirill drank less. He nursed drinks longer, abandoned half-finished glasses so that he never downed a full drink before ordering another. He still acted just as drunk as before, because he still needed an excuse to touch Nikolai, but he wanted to be more sober so he could savor the closeness: the rich fabric of Nikolai's Armani suits, the scent of his cologne, the soft voice that suggested the sort of intimacy Kirill imagined on those nights when he took himself in hand and stroked himself to orgasm.

Kirill thought he was being clever until the night he ran into old friends at a bar and got more drunk than usual. Maybe it was enough to make him forget the routine, cup Nikolai's ass, and squeeze. Maybe he just thought about doing it. He was never quite sure. He let Nikolai steer him to his room and expected to be dumped into bed. When they were in the room, Nikolai nudged the door shut with his hip, then shoved him back hard against the wall. He pressed the length of his body against Kirill's, and their lips touched, just for an instant.

Nikolai pulled back quickly and murmured a soft, "Sorry, I tripped on the rug." He nodded to Kirill, slipped out of the room.

Kirill leaned against the wall, licked his lips. He fumbled with his pants, pushing them down so he could curl trembling fingers around his cock. He brought himself off to thoughts of Nikolai pinning him and forcing him to come for him, then he stumbled across the smooth, hardwood floor to collapse in his bed.


End file.
